


Engulfed in Fire

by Hypomone535



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 22:36:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14924168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypomone535/pseuds/Hypomone535
Summary: I'm new to posting my pieces here.  If you have any tips about tags or see something I have labeled incorrectly please let me know. :)





	Engulfed in Fire

It was well into the night when Jon threw the furs off and finally stood up. Since returning to Winterfell sleep had been elusive. The daily trials of the day had worn against his heart and he lamented a simpler time. What would he give to be the bastard of Winterfell once more? What would he do to erase the truth of his birth?

Daenerys said it didn’t matter, that it was actually better. His skin still crawled when he remembered her violet eyes, actually looking pleased. We will rule together, not just as family, but as husband and wife…

Pulling on his jerkin and his cloak Jon left his chambers. The heavy fall of his footsteps alerted the guards in the hall. Standing at position he stalked past them knowing not where his feet carried him. All he knew was he needed to get out of that room away from her.

The news that she’d burned Sam’s father and brother alive disturbed Jon, but her refusal to admit it was a bad decision infuriated him. Rulers were not imperfect, as he well knew, but the ability to admit when they’re wrong was necessary if you were to be a just leader. Hadn’t his father taught him that?

Not your father, he reminded himself. The stomp of his boots continued, relentless against the stone. The castle felt cold, despite the hot springs. Winter had truly come. The force of the wind blew stronger as each day passed, bringing death closer to home. Jon knew the dead would be upon them, and he prayed he would be ready.

Just then a party of three came toward him. Jon was just close enough to recognize the sound of Sansa’s voice, the breadth of Brienne and the swagger of the Kingslayer. His mouth snarled as they spoke, no doubt offering their opinions to the Lady of Winterfell about what would happen should the castle fall.

“It’s rather late to be up walking isn’t it?” Jon made his presence known just before they turned down an opposite corridor.

Jamie looked at him first, “We were escorting Lady Stark back to her chambers my lord.”

Jon scowled catching Brienne look sideways at Jamie, “I will see Lady Stark back to her chambers myself. You two are dismissed.”

Brienne looked from Sansa to Jon, “Is that alright with you Lady Sansa?”

The anger boiled harder in Jon, his storming eyes glared at Sansa. The lady arched her eyebrows, “Of course Brienne, I will come to no harm at the hands of my cousin.” She nodded at both of them and folded her hands neatly in front of her as Jon approached.

“What are you doing walking about with them at night?”

Sansa blushed and took his arm, “I will tell you my lord once you return me safely to my room.”

The pair kept their silence as they walked the length of the hallways back to the lord’s chambers.

Sansa was quiet, and Jon noticed how her face was strained as if the journey was painful.

When she’d shut her solar door she came at him with the ferociousness of a wolf. “What do you think you are doing ordering my guards about?”

She stood very close to him but he took a step further, “And what do you think you are doing walking the halls in the middle of the night? Don’t you know how dangerous that can be?”

“Why should I worry what I do in my own home?” Her voice rose a few octaves, “Unless this is no longer my home?”

The warmth of her breath hit his face, “Are you drunk Sansa?”

She tried backing away from him but he grabbed her wrist, “What are they doing to you?”

The steel armor of her face crumbled, her body swaying. He caught her against him, holding her by her shoulders, “Tell me.”

“Jon…” Her voice was broken and fragile. “You’re hurting me.”

The grip of his hands released her slightly. The gray irises of his eyes danced in the firelight. Sansa looked over him, this man that she’d believed all her life was her half brother. His face was familiar and used to bring her comfort. Now when she looked at him she wondered if he was her enemy as well.

“I can’t sleep.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I asked Brienne to take me to the maester to see if he could offer me some kind of draught for my sleep. I waited until now because I didn’t want anyone else to know.” She paused but he waited for more. Sighing she continued, “I dream of fire, all night Jon. Burning me and burning Winterfell and I wake up worried I can’t escape it.”

He swallowed; letting his hands slide down her arms he grasped her hands, “Why didn’t you come to me?”

“What would you have done?

He narrowed his eyes at her, “You would ask Jamie Lannister for his help before me? I thought we agreed to trust each other? Have you forgotten?”

Sansa’s chest heaved under the strain of the past weeks. Looking into Jon’s eyes she brought her hands up to his face.

He flinched, her touch cold but he didn’t move out from under her hands, “Do you doubt me Sansa?”

The blues of her eyes melted softly, more like crystals than ice. “I don’t want to.” She let one hand fall and laid it against his heart. “Is that still you in there?”

Both his hands came up to hers and he pried her hand off his chest. Carefully, he removed the glove from her fingers and laid her hand back against him. Dropping her glove to the floor, he covered her with his fingers. “D’you feel that?”

Sansa’s whole body went warm, his fire tickling her fingertips and spreading out down her limbs. It curled into a deep pit and pooled in her stomach. Slowly, she raised her eyes to his.

“My heart beats for the North, for Winterfell, for my family, no matter what alliances I have made. I will always be on your side Sansa.”

Her body was pressed up against him, the swish of her skirt caressing his thighs. Her brows knitted at the confusion she felt, in his eyes, in his touch. He was looking at her the same way he had since he descended those steps at Castle Black and swept her in his arms. His hands still burned her in places she did not want to admit, and his eyes told her things she knew they should not.

Somehow though, tonight, when the maester’s drug worked headily through her blood she couldn’t care. And quite suddenly she realized that it wasn’t Drogon’s fire that she feared. No, that death would be easy, freedom coming almost instantly. She looked into Jon’s stormy eyes once again, if only to convince herself it was true.

His fire was the substance of her nightmares, this brother turned king. She could feel it in the rough touch of his fingertips that worked circles over her flesh. The hunger of his stare that promised her his devotion over and over again. She felt the depth of such feelings awaken a yearning in her soul.

It was too late she realized as she pushed herself closer to him, grasping at the pieces of him that he offered. She shouldn’t be afraid of burning now. Not when she was already engulfed in his flames.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to posting my pieces here. If you have any tips about tags or see something I have labeled incorrectly please let me know. :)


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